Curiosity (and the cat it almost killed)
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Hermione Granger, Head of the Vampire Rights Unit, has developed an unhealthy (very unhealthy) obsession with a certain client and her curiosity simply must be sated. Little does she know that her decision will have far-reaching consequences for them both. Two-parter. Mind the rating.


_This is a two-parter (two very long parts) but there was no other way to split it up. It's a vampire story, so you'll find biting and blood. And, of course, lemony goodness. I have made up a shedload of vamps 'facts'; please forgive me (or indulge me, if you like). This is for Emerald Sparrow because she's lovely and deserves a gift-fic! Big thanks to Darnedchild and Elizabeth K1 for their quick and wonderful beta work but any and all mistakes are mine. _

_**One warning**: Ver brief mention of abortion potion. There is **no** abortion in the fic. It's a very short conversation and nothing more. _

_I own nothing (except for the made-up vampire crap!) Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

**Part 1 **

It was entirely unethical. _Probably immoral._ But she just was so damn _curious _about it and couldn't keep her mind from wandering.

_I have to stop thinking about it. And him. What the hell's wrong with me? I have to stop obsessing. I have to… _

Of course, there were no regulations prohibiting it and Hermione Granger would know; she'd written every last one of them.

She gasped. _Did I purposefully leave out any guidelines regarding this specific... situation just to suit my own depravity? _

Then, chuckling to softly, she realised how ridiculous that notion was. She'd not even known the wizard was alive - _well_, _sort of alive_ \- let alone a vampire, when she'd begun championing vampiric rights.

This was maybe the hundreth conversation she'd had with herself about this topic and she was nowhere near making a decision. It was merely a curiosity, nothing more. One couldn't work around vampires all day - okay, all night, really - and _not… _wonder.

Three years into her employment in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Hermione had been given the opportunity to head her own sub-department. She'd asked her boss, Elder Thoreinfelter if he would read a proposal she'd prepared concerning the treatment and rights of the undead. In essence, she proposed a sort of registry that would allow vampires more freedom; they could stop living in the shadows, so to speak, and not have to hide their status unless they chose. They could also - and this was the hard part to sell, the controversial part - trade anything, gold, wares, even sex for blood, thus ending their need to hunt.

Her argument was that since prostitution was legal in the wizarding world, why couldn't vampires participate in the _old as time profession_ as a means to survive? If they did choose to stay in hiding and hunt rather than utilising the trade condition, they were fair game for MLE, however. The majority of them would choose life in the open, by Hermione's calculations and this would make Wizarding England safer for everyone.

It took just one short year to get approval and implement her drastic new regulations (having Kingsley, dear friend and a wizard who trusted her implicitly, as Minister was a huge advantage!) but Hermione Granger was now the Head of the Vampire Rights Unit. She had two employees, both sworn (with actual oaths) to keep any and all information - names of vampires, their occupations, addresses and whatnot - within the department. Making themselves known was entirely up to said vampires; the VRU was in place to protect them and the public, not advertise their status.

There was also a list of 'donors' - people who offered their blood willingly and registered with the department so that Hermione and her staff could keep an eye them, making sure that they were healthy and not being forced. A witch or wizard could, of course, stop donating whenever they chose, but if a contract was being set up for a long-term agreement, they needed it certified with her department; this protected both parties. The VRU had its own entrance, for anonymity's sake and kept overnight hours, generally speaking.

Hermione Granger had graduated from S.P.E.W., house elves simply didn't want her help and she knew that now, to actually helping a group of magical people who _did _want her help. She was finally making a difference.

And now this… this strange obsession!

There was a rap on her door, followed by, "Director Granger?"

"Yes, Talbot?"

"I have a Miss Clemens to see you," he said, poking his head into her office.

"Send her in," Hermione replied, pulling the vampire's file from her 'to do' tray on top of her desk. _I'll think about this… problem later._

o0o0o0o

No one had seen her make her way to his building or up to the top floor. Her Disillusionment spell was foolproof. Well, _he _most likely could have seen through it, powerful as he was, but she wasn't hiding from him. Once at his door, she faltered, however - doubt and, to some extent fear trying to take over. Dithering, she fidgeted, straightening her skirt and smoothing her hair which lay in curly waves down her back, nearly reaching her waist.

Around noon, during a disappointing lunch of sub-par roast beef on rye, Hermione had decided that there was nothing wrong with her going to Snape's flat at 10.30 on a Friday evening; it was a fact-finding mission and nothing more. _Like being Compelled, _she'd decided with sudden clarity.

She and both of her employees had willingly experienced vampire Compulsion in the early days of establishing the unit. They needed to know what being manipulated by a vampire felt like. Not all their clients would be entirely trustworthy and the experience was vital. Hermione selected a client, one she trusted, and asked him to use his power on them. Henry was the third vampire to register with her department. He was a sweet, older vampire - though age was a bit squishy when dealing with the undead - who had been instrumental in helping her make adjustments to some of the regulations.

_Stroke of brilliance, that! And this is the same, _she'd told herself, finally giving up on the soggy bread and gristly meat. _I simply need to have a full understanding of what it's like to be bitten. Nothing tawdry about it. No torn bodices or heaving bosoms. Just… Master Snape's teeth… in my flesh... drawing my blood into his..._

So rather than working well past midnight, as she did most weekdays, Hermione went home and prepared.

After ending the spell, making herself once again visible to one and all, she had almost worked up the nerve to knock when the door opened, causing her to gasp.

"Though I am very nearly immortal, Miss Granger, and have all the time in the world, I think you'll find that my patience is still… limited," he said with a sneer.

Her heart stopped. She had to force herself not to giggle at the thought that his… well, his heart barely moved at all. _One beat per minute unless… unless he was engaged in… Not thinking about that at the moment. _Sometimes having such a vast knowledge of all things vampiric was more than a bit overwhelming. "Master Snape," she finally managed.

He straightened his spine, crossed his arms over his chest and looked down on her with disdain. It was a little less dramatic without the frock coat and billowing robes. Flat front trousers and a comfy looking, grey jumper just didn't have the same intimidation factor. Then there was the fact that he wasn't wearing shoes. Or socks. Hermione swallowed.

"Have I forgotten an important appointment, Miss Granger?"

She looked around the hall but, of course, no one was there; he lived in the penthouse apartment of a Muggle building. She'd helped get the approval for his living in a non-magical environment herself. Not because of his vampiric status, but because of the number of charms he had requested, required really, to safeguard the building. Potions brewing in a Muggle structure was tricky stuff. When he had made the request, she'd volunteered to push the paperwork through proper the channels to expedite the process. He had seemed suspicious at first, but agreed, even thanked her for her help when he came in to sign the stacks of documents.

Her intentions had been pure; she honestly felt that a man (now vampire) like Severus Snape deserved to live and brew wherever he chose. Her preoccupation had started shortly thereafter. Possibly, probably, because of their semi-flirtatious banter. Well, flirtatious for Snape.

"Miss Granger…"

Apparently, she'd been silent for too long. "Ah, no, sir. This isn't VRU business. Or, er… it _is, _or rather could be..." She huffed. "May I come in?"

Eyeing her cautiously, he stepped back and allowed her entry.

As she took in the surprisingly modern apartment, with its masculine colours - variations of grey, some dark blues and, of course, black - its open floor plan and rows and rows of bookshelves, she couldn't help but gawk. It was quite lovely, not at all stark. There was a warmth to it, both in temperature and atmosphere.

To her left was a sitting room, dominated by a large black leather couch. Behind and to the left of the couch, were French doors - which were opened to the coo,l but not cold, night air. Hermione looked to her right and saw an open air kitchen that was clearly barely used, or was she reverting to stereotype? She knew for a fact that vampires ate actual food… occasionally. Or at least some of them did. Shaking her head, she glanced across from the kitchen, seeing a half wall that obscured what she assumed was a dining room.

"May I take your cloak, Miss Granger, or will this be a _short_ visit?" his voice startled Hermione out of visual assessment but she managed to suppress her instinct to gasp or shudder.

Turning, she found the wizard standing just behind her, an odd little smirk on his face. "Um, yes…" Almost as soon as she spoke she realised that she'd not actually answered the question. "My cloak, I mean... please." Unfastening it at her neck, she felt him pull the garment from her shoulders. "Th-thank you," she stammered.

He hung it up on a black metal coat rack that stood next to the door. "Would you care to sit?" he asked, holding out an arm towards the lounge. _Like a bloody gentleman! _

"Of course." Hermione walked into the elegantly appointed room but wavered about where to sit. There were two chairs as well as the couch. Did sitting on that couch assume too much? _Assume what?_ she questioned herself in her head. _This is all about research, remember?_ She really needed to get a freakin' grip!

Then Snape's voice was in her ear once again. "Might I recommend the davenport? It is far more… comfortable than either of the chairs," he said in a low, almost dangerous purr.

Hermione could not stop the shudder this time. _Good show, you little fool,_ she thought. _He'll see right through you now, that is assuming he hasn't already_. Wait? What would he 'see'? She was fact-finding and nothing more! Quickly, she moved to the couch and sat at the end closest to the front door, her body pressing up against the armrest.

Snape stayed standing, his hands clasped behind his back. "You seem anxious, Miss Granger," he said as he strode across the room to a drinks cabinet. "Can I offer you something to help calm your nerves?"

_I could definitely use a drink_. "Please." That was when she noticed the large, almost imposing fireplace in the centre of the room. She'd not been able to see it from her location at the entrance as it faced the sitting room proper and had somehow missed it when she sat down. Above the mantle was a mounted flat screen TV. Though nothing about the apartment was what she'd expected, the telly was the most surprising.

Perhaps a minute later he faced her, holding a phial in one hand and a tumbler of amber coloured liquid in the other. "Twelve-year-old scotch or a calming draught?" He smirked. "What's your poison?"

Momentarily taken aback by the very Muggle (and American) turn of phrase, she gaped. Then couldn't stop the giggle at the thought of a Potions master referring to anything as poison. It had apparently been deliberate as Snape let out a short but hearty chuckle along with her.

"Ah, the scotch, sir."

He nodded, setting down the draught and joined her on the couch.

As she took the tumbler from him, she asked, "You're not joining me?" referring to the drink.

"While we can imbibe anything, only certain, _very _potent alcoholic beverages can manage to even make our fingertips tingle." He raised an eyebrow when she didn't challenge him. Absinthe wasn't illegal, yet it was a frowned upon habit by the general populous. Then again, even with her regulations and giant steps forward, so was the drinking of blood. "Besides, my nerves are fine," he added, his tone almost, but not quite mocking.

At that, she took a large drink, hoping she'd find her courage as she swallowed the - _damn! that's really good _\- scotch. She called on the courage that had helped win them the war and had given her the strength to end things with Ron when it was apparent that he was _not _the wizard for her (even though everyone wanted them to get married and have a half dozen ginger haired babies!). She reached down deep for the courage that had given her the will to fight for the rights of vampires across England, allowing them to come out of hiding and live in the light (so to speak), should they choose.

Hermione prepared to open her mouth to ask Snape - her former professor and current client - for something so seemingly naughty, something completely out of character for her... _But it's not! _she protested internally. _This is about resea… Oh, give it up. You're not looking to make a detailed study of vampiric feeding habits, you're hoping to have an orgasm!_ Now she was having arguments in her head! Maybe the scotch was a bit stronger than she thought or perhaps her sandwich earlier had been riddled with Mad Cow? There was something wrong with that roast beef; she was sure of it.

Snape moved forward, his arm resting behind her head. "I can see your struggle, Miss Granger, and I fully understand," his voice was soft, not the least bit taunting or accusatory. "Surely you must know that I've seen it before. You're not the first witch to come to me… unsure and uneasy."

She couldn't look at him; it was bad enough that he'd read her like a damn book. All she managed was a single nod.

He wasn't touching her but less than an inch separated them. She could feel him; not his heat, of course, though it wasn't as if he radiated cold either. Hermione had touched vampires before. In the seven years of working with them, there had been many instances in which she'd held a hand, touched an arm, she'd even embraced a newly Turned witch who had come to Hermione's department, distraught and frightened. Silvia Hammond was still someone she considered a friend. They met often for drinks and girly chit-chat. The undead weren't cold, as the lore would lead everyone to believe, but they were a bit _chilly_.

Nonetheless, she could feel Snape's presence. He was close, very close.

"I _can _be discreet, you know," he said quietly.

Finally, she turned and met his eyes. Little had changed about the wizard in the intervening years since the war. She supposed it was somewhat fortunate that he had looked like a vampire even _before_ he'd been Turned. He was pale, of course, but no more so than in his teaching days. In a way, he seemed to have an unEarthly glow about him. This wasn't indicative of all vampires, Hermione had noted; perhaps he simply thrived in his new form? He was still just as thin as ever as far as she could tell, though this _meeting _was the first time she'd seen him without his trademark robes and he did fill out that jumper quite nicely...

There were some differences, of course. His nose, for instance. It was still large, but no longer crooked and was missing the distinctive hump that indicated a deviated septum. And his scars were gone. His neck was smooth and unmarked. Hermione had been there that night; she'd seen what Riddle's pet had done to him and knew that there should be scars marring that long elegant neck. But there was no evidence that he'd been mauled by a gigantic snake. She'd seen it before in her other clients. Turning healed even the oldest wounds, hence the magical rhinoplasty and scar removal.

The biggest change, however (at least in her eyes), were his teeth. This she had noticed upon their first meeting. Up until that day, Hermione - and most of the Wizarding World - had thought he was dead. Actually dead, not _un_dead. She tried not to be too hard on herself for admiring the gleaming white denticulations, she was the daughter of dentists, after all, but they fascinated her instantly. The few times she had seen them in her youth, usually when he was sneering in the mockery of a smile at her and her friends' misfortune, his teeth had been crooked and yellow. Once, when he was shouting (well, shouting for him, which meant a slightly raised voice laced with venom and dersion) at her for being caught sneaking back to Gryffindor Tower after curfew, her keen eye had even noticed a that his upper right lateral was severely broken and in urgent need of repair. Unfortunately, she simply hadn't been able to keep her big mouth shut.

"_You should have that tooth looked at, sir. I'm sure Madame Pom…" was as far as she got before his eyes widened dangerously and he silenced her with a flick of his wand. _

"_**That**__, Miss Granger, was for your own good," he hissed. "You shall spend the next two weekends assisting Mr. Filch in cleaning the public toilets." He paused, narrowed his eyes and added, "Without magic, of course," before billowing away. _

Now, those gorgeously white, elongated upper lateral incisors haunted her dreams and promised something that was just out of her reach. She wanted it. And it was only a few inches away. All she had to do was pluck up the…

"Shall I… assist you?" he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet in the room like a warm knife through butter.

Far too much time had passed and as he'd stated earlier, his patience was limited. Again, she nodded.

"People come to me, witches mostly but wizards as well, from time to time…"

The imagery that his words caused made Hermione close her eyes and fight hard against arousal. _Men? _He also accepted wizards? Merlin and all his little friends! She hadn't even considered that possibility. Now she'd couldn't _not_. So lost in her naughty wonderings, she seemed to miss part of what he was saying. When she came back to herself, he was still speaking.

"... as you can see, I _do_ understand your predicament and _am _willing to help." She turned to see him leaning back an inch or so. "Especially for an old… acquaintance."

"I'm… I'm glad to hear that, sir."

"Of course," he said as he stood, gliding back towards the drinks cabinet. "I'll need you to take an Oath. It cannot be known that I'm in possession of such a potion."

_A what…? _"Potion?" she blurted out in shock. What the hell was he talking about?

"It is all right, Miss Granger." He looked her up and down. "You're not the first witch to get herself into this sort of… trouble. Though usually, they're a bit _younger _than yourself, I will admit."

_Trouble?_ She gasped, as it dawned on her. And was that a dig about her age? Just because he'd stopped ageing years ago, didn't give him license to make snarky comments. She was still in her prime! Shaking her head because that wasn't the point, she stood and planted her hands on her hips. "Master Snape, I'm not here…" She paused, now angry that he would think her… Well, she didn't judge and wouldn't consider anyone who had need of that potion as… unsavoury. Witches should have full rights over their own bodies, in her opinion. That particular law was on her mental list to take on in the near future. But at the moment… "I haven't come here to obtain an abortion potion." She was grateful that she sounded much more in control than seconds before. On more than one occasion her voice had been described as 'shrill'.

He moved like a soft breeze. One moment he was across the room, the next he was at her shoulder, a hair's breadth from touching her. "_Oh… I... know,"_ his wicked voice whispered in her ear. "And before you ask, I didn't use Compulsion to lure you here."

He needn't have told her as she was aware of what Compulsion felt like. Besides, she trusted him; it was an automatic response when it came to this particular wizard. It disturbed her just _how _much she trusted him. She wasn't delusional, though, she knew he wasn't a good man, necessarily. She knew he'd done bad things and probably would do many, many more in his extended life.

"Though I thought about it."

_Way to prove my point. Wait... _"You _did_?"

"Indeed."

She was facing forward, couldn't bear to turn and look him in the eyes. The very thought that he'd considered attempting to Compel her… It sent shivers down her spine. _How is that a turn on? Am I some kind of freak? _Finally, she glanced at him. Just as her mouth opened to ask why he'd considered doing something that surely would have gotten him tagged as a _problematic client - needs observation_ at the very least, he spoke.

"You were in the middle of your cycle during our last meeting. After what I smelt… it would have been worth the risk." His eyes dropped, taking her in head to toe.

"Are you in my head?" she asked, as she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at the taboo topic.

"Not necessary," he said with a smirk, moving his gaze back to her face. "You hide very little. It used to annoy the hell out of me. Now I find it… almost refreshing." He paused, inhaling a deep breath. "What is your blood type, Miss Granger?"

The question threw her off balance (even more so than the knowledge that he'd been screwing with her since she'd arrived - _the bastard!_) and Hermione had to think for several seconds before speaking. Just as she remembered her blood type and was about to tell him, once again he interrupted. The habit was starting to grate on her frazzled nerves.

"_AB negative," _he said breathily. "Do you have any idea how _rare _you are, witch?"

"Very?" was all she could manage.

He chuckled. "_That_ is a gross understatement. I have, as of yet, found a witch - and I do prefer witches if you must know - with your blood type. _One_, one single Muggle woman allowed me to take her home from a dodgy pub in Leeds a few years ago and let me have my fill."

She gasped.

"Yes, yes, I know. Very naughty of me. But I hurried to a local hospital - I assure you I can be quite quick when properly motivated - filched a couple of bags of O negative and replenished her."

Later, Hermione would marvel at the fact that he had so much knowledge of Muggle medicine; she would also chastise herself for not even considering adding this information to his file. Now, unfortunately, she was too busy creaming herself to care.

"I then Obliviated her, leaving only the _most pleasurable_ parts of our evening in her memory, and went on my way."

Hermione couldn't speak, she couldn't even think. She'd stopped deluding herself back before his little potion ruse as to her reason for her presence. She wasn't here, in a vampire flat - in the middle of the night, for research; she wanted him. There was only one question: was it worth the risk? _I'm the head of the VRU. This is the very definition of unethical! I can't possibly allow..._ Her musings came to a screeching halt, however, when he finally he touched her.

Hermione felt the back of his hand trail up her arm, starting at her wrist and slowly gliding upwards, leaving a line of horripilation in its wake. She was ever so glad that she'd worn a short-sleeved dress. "I never forgot her _taste_. She was exquisite, Miss… May I call you _Hermione_?"

Oh, the sound of her name on his tongue… "Y-y-yes," she stuttered out as his hand moved from her arm to her waist.

"Then, that day in your office, you sat there, perched on the edge of your desk… _menstruating…_"

The word caused something akin to shame to bloom in the pit of Hermione's stomach. Edge of her desk…? Oh, when she had given him the approval paperwork for the charms on the flat. Their last meeting. When she'd flirted and he'd sort of flirted back.

"... and it took every ounce of control not to bury my face between your bloody thighs."

Shame turned quickly into overwhelming desire and she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from begging the vampire to take her… now! She was sure she was flushed red, her cheeks certainly felt hot and they tingled from lingering shame and embarrassment.

Snape moved until he was in front of her, forcing her to look at his face. She could not, instantly looking downward, trying to avoid his piercing eyes. One hand still on her waist, with the other he reached up, tilting her chin until she had no choice be to meet his gaze.

"There's no shame in it..."

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, seeking out his perfect teeth. She shivered.

"... A woman's cycle is a reminder of life." He caressed each word, drawing them out as if they had a hidden meaning. "Life, Hermione, is something to be cherished."

It hit her with an almost physical force. They _did _have a hidden meaning. Professor Snape had always been economical with his words. When he talked, you had better listen because he was making a point that was not to be ignored. The wizard never just spoke to hear his own voice.

"Sit, Hermione, before you keel over." He physically aided her in his request, following her down to settle on the couch. This time, his body was pressed firmly against hers. "Witches come to me, all types. Short, tall, slim, round. O. A. B." His hand found its way to her hair, toying with the curls. He seemed fascinated by it. "Women... they all want something. Sometimes money, sometimes sex. Usually a potion. And since I'm good, word has spread."

She badly wanted to ask if he was referring to sex or potion making.

He nudged her hair off of her shoulder, his eyes focused on her neck. "A vampire has to eat, after all."

Hermione felt his index finger lightly tracing her carotid artery and she swallowed heavily. She closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath, and decided to try to force the conversation back to a professional topic in hopes of retaining some measure of dignity. "Th-that's the p-point of…"

"Indeed. Your work is much appreciated," he interrupted, his finger still softly teasing her skin. "How very lucky the vampire community is to have become the focus of such a… beautiful and formative mind." Of course he caught on to her ploy and, as had been the trend all night, he dominated their exchange.

Hermione knew she was being played, manipulated, but she was rather enjoying the sport of it and finally decided to give in. A bit.

Replacing his finger with his thumb, he wrapped his hand around her neck, adding the slightest amount of pressure. "And just like any man, I seem to have my preferences. _AB negative…_" He drew in a hissing breath. "There's something about the taste, less metallic… more _human_. I can't quite put my finger on it."

"I s-suppose I'm just your type," Hermione said, not liking the tremble in her voice but what could she do? Her core was tight and almost achy. This anticipation, however delicious, was killing her.

A deep chuckle came from the wizard next to her. "I suppose so." His other hand touched her stocking clad knee. "But we are at an impasse, Hermione."

What was this, more games? "How so?"

"I believe that you came here for no other reason than academic curiosity. You always were a seeker of knowledge." His hand crept higher. "You want to know what it feels like… the bite. It's understandable. You work with us day in and day out…" He chuckled again. "Well, I should say night in and night out." The pressure on her throat increased; the hand on her thigh inched higher, his fingertips disappearing underneath the hem of her skirt. "Yet, were I to taste you, I'm not entirely sure I could keep my cock in my pants, nor am I sure I wouldn't want a second, a third, a hundredth… drink of your delicious blood."

Involuntarily, Hermione moaned.

"Perhaps a bit more than curiosity, then?" he said, his voice full of cocky innuendo.

The hand on her throat loosened as he studied her for a moment before caressing her pulse point with his thumb. "I could make you a… proposal, of sorts."

"Yes?" Though it had come out as a question, Hermione wasn't sure she even needed to hear what he proposed. Even to her own ears, her 'yes' sounded more like acquiescence than a question.

His hand disappeared from her neck and he moved away a few inches. "Perhaps I have something you need. A potion? Gold? Are you looking to buy a summer home, Hermione? I must feed at least every forty-eight hours…"

_Every two days!_ She could be with him every two days? _Wait!_ This was just supposed to be a fact-finding mission, wasn't it?_ HA!_ she laughed to herself._ I thought we were done with self-delusion?_ Brushing off her conflicting inner monologue, she let the notion sink in. The idea of… _more _suddenly sounded lovely.

"With the amount I would need from you, you would be left weakened, however, I cannot feed from one person without…" He paused, bringing a finger up to his mouth he brushed the digit along his full lower lip, a thoughtful look on his face. "No- no, I couldn't..." he trailed off, shaking his head. After a moment he said, "I would simply have to supplement from other sources." with a resigned sigh.

Jealousy flared up from out of nowhere. _Other sources_ meant that he wouldn't stop feeding from _other witches_ and it suddenly dawned on Hermione that she didn't like that prospect one bit. _Wait, what?_

Standing, Snape stared down at her, almost glaring before he turned his back to her.

She instantly missed his presence.

He glided across the room, this time making his way to the opened balcony doors. "But you shouldn't be here, should you?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe and staring across the skyline.

Was he rejecting her? She wasn't sure she could stand the idea of leaving… unfulfilled. His hot and cold attitude was causing her head to spin. This game might not be as fun as she thought. Taking a deep breath, she said, "No, sir, I suppose I shouldn't." In her mind, she started resigning herself to the fact that her curiosity wouldn't be sated this night and that his 'proposal' had been nothing more than him thinking out loud.

"What would Thoreinfelter think if he knew his brightest star was at the home of a registered undead, just waiting to be bitten?"

He turned, glancing at her with a smirk before facing her fully. Backlit by the London night sky, the wizard looked otherworldly. She scoffed inwardly at the corny thought. Then realised what he'd just said, the surprise must have shown on her face.

"Of course I know the old windbag. He's tried to recruit me a half dozen times since I resurfaced. It seems he wants a token vamp amongst his precious Unspeakables. Oh, ah, yes… He's being transferred to the DoM. I suppose that was to be a secret." He shrugged. "_Oops_." Looking far too pleased with himself, he added, "Your Ministry could not afford me, Miss Granger."

_Oh.._. She was Miss Granger again all of a sudden. That hurt a bit. Pretending to be impressed with his, admittedly, elegant home, she nodded then finished her drink. It seemed her evening would be ending soon, might as well enjoy some expensive hooch whilst she still could. "You appear to be doing well for yourself."

"I am," he said casually as he strolled back into the room proper. "For the most part." Walking towards the couch, Snape held out his hand and silently Summoned the bottle of scotch from the drinks cabinet. He then his took a seat next to her once again, pouring her another drink. "I have found, unfortunately, that Galleons cannot offer me stimulating conversation, that creature comforts can only _comfort _a man such as myself, to a certain point..." As he spoke, he idly picked at the label on the liquor bottle with his thumbnail. "And that whilst warm blood may be sustaining, doesn't satisfy _all _my cravings."

Hermione found herself leaning towards him somewhere in the middle of his speech. "_What is it that you crave, sir?"_ she asked in a whisper.

Snape's hand stilled on the neck of the bottle before releasing it. He slowly turned, pulling his right knee up onto the couch cushion and faced her fully. "A. B. Negative," he said with slow deliberation.

A low, desperate whine suddenly came from somewhere in the room and Hermione was mortified when she realised it was her.

The vampire smiled, showing his fangs - his fully extended fangs - for the first time. His smile was neither menacing nor derisive. He truly looked happy. "Oh, Hermione, what sounds I could wrench from that delicate throat of yours." Eyeing her neck hungrily, he started to reach for her but stopped. "However…" His smile faded, his teeth retracted, yet his hands remained, hovering an inch from her shoulders. "Any association with me could be seen as inappropriate and cost you your position. That is nothing to say of your reputation; it would surely not survive."

Once again, disappointment burned in Hermione's belly, threatening to make her do, say something rash. She very nearly spoke her inner thoughts, which were, '_I'll never tell a soul. It'll be our secret! I swear it!'_ But she couldn't say those words and mean them. Surprisingly, didn't _want _to mean them. This ma... - this vampire was brilliant and powerful, not to mention he had sacrificed so much for their world. Something inside her suddenly want to be his, proudly and publicly.

_Where the hell'd that come from? _

His words from just moments before came back to her and she wondered if he wanted more too. _Conversation. Comfort. Cravings_. He was looking for some kind of long term situation and here she was, curious and, well, horny.

_Is he...? Goodness, he is, he's lonely._

While it had been true that at the beginning of the evening, Hermione only wanted to learn about a vampire bite (and possibly have an amazing orgasm), something had changed in the hour or so since her arrival.

As she sat, sipping the last of her scotch, a picture started forming in her mind: Hermione coming into this flat, in this building, kicking off her shoes and shrugging out of her robes. Severus (_oh, he's Severus all of a sudden..._) greeted her with a kiss, deep and full of promise. Then they were chatting, though she couldn't make out the words, she could see a smile of the wizard's face - a genuine smile, kind and almost familiar - as he led her to this very couch. Pulling her feet onto his lap, he started to rub them as they talked. The scene changed. He was cooking and she was laughing at something he'd just said. It changed again and she found herself watching him brew, his hands moving as super-human speed as he prepared ingredients. A new moving picture flashed in her mind and suddenly she was riding him, his hands gripping her tightly as he urged her on.

Hermione shook herself. _What the bloody hell?_ She'd had fantasies before, but never so vivid and whilst she was… _My gods, he's sitting right…_ Suddenly a thought occurred to her and she forced herself to look at him. He had turned away from her during her little… whatever the hell that was, and was once again fiddling with the scotch bottle, looking damn near forlorn. _Could he have…?_ But that was impossible; he wasn't even looking at her, nor did he have his wand in his hand. Besides, that wasn't how Legilimency worked and she knew it.

Standing, on somewhat shaky legs due to the two tumblers of excellent scotch, Hermione smiled down at the vampire. She tried to convey her sadness to him, though not pity, never pity, because quite frankly, she was just as sad for herself as she was for him. Snape stood as well.

"I see it is time for all good day-dwellers to retire," he said, a slight sneer back in its place.

"I'm afraid so, sir. You're correct, of course, my presence here could be… misconstrued and…"

He stepped closer. "It was foolish on both our parts, Miss Granger. As I stated before, I am not unaware of all you have done for our kind. Your regulations are the very reason I was allowed to return to England and for that I am grateful. I should not have made my... feelings known." His lips thinned as he inhaled deeply. "Blood is blood, no matter the type. No matter the packaging." Eyes shifting down her body, then back up to her face, he added, "I will sustain. Empty headed fools will do just fine."

A light breeze startled her and Hermione looked around to find him standing at the door, her cloak in his hands. _Such a bloody gentleman!_ She hated to leave but he was right; staying could prove disastrous. Though her heart was heavy and her core ached, she made her way towards him. _A bloody shame!_ she thought as he draped the fabric over her shoulders.

Once the clasp was closed, she tried to move, tried to step out of his way and towards the door, but Snape held her still. "_Fuck me, I shouldn't..." _he whispered, then she felt that nose of his, raking up her neck.

She had to get out of there. They'd just talked about this and decided it was a _very _bad idea. When she tried to pull away again, however, Snape emitted a low growl. His hands tightened on her shoulders and two things to dawn on her at once: _he's going to bite me... finally!_ and _these knickers are absolutely ruined. _

"If you were to run, Miss Granger, I'd chase you, I'd catch you and I'd have you. It's best if you remain perfectly still."

Hermione whimpered, leaning back into him lest she fall over. She never should have come here; this had been an awful idea. Now she wanted nothing more than to _be _his prey. She _wanted _to be hunted. "Pl-please…" she said, not meaning to voice her need aloud and not knowing if she wanted him to release her or tear into her throat with abandon.

"I am _trying _my damnedest not to fill you and drain you simultaneously, witch."

Oh Merlin, why did he have to say things like that? Her head fell to his shoulder, inadvertently stretching her neck, bearing even more her flesh for the vampire's appraisal.

"Fucking hell, Hermione!" Snape said in a near whine.

"I… I don't care!"

"I do." His lips moved against her ear. "I won't want to give it up…"

Somehow, she managed to turn in his hold. "What if I don't either?"

His face screwed up in confusion. "What…?" He paused, seemed to try to shake himself and asked, "What are you saying? You cannot possibly..."

It was her turn to interrupt. "I like you." _Gods, that's lame!_ "I mean… What I mean is..." She huffed in frustration. Her mind wasn't so formidable when it was flooded with hormones. "What's the point of all my regulations, of all the advancements for vampire-kind if I can't, I mean if _you _can't reap the benefits?"

He still held her shoulders but took a half step back. "What… benefits?"

"Who else would I meet, f-find that I fancy…" Oh, that word felt strange when referring to Severus Snape. "... other than a vampire? I spend most of my time with you people. It actually makes sense."

"But your job…"

"Thoreinfelter, or whomever they find to replace him, will just have to deal with it. Everything I do is secretive, for Merlin's sake! Exactly five people, other than my clients, know I head the VRU and everyone, including the clients, sign magically binding NDAs, as you well know." Hermione felt that this precaution had been overkill, but Kingsley had demanded it. In actuality, she was quite proud of her work and didn't feel the need to hide her position. It was, unfortunately, out of her hands.

"Your... _friends_?" At this, he released her shoulders, taking a step back.

"They don't know what it is I do, but I can tell you that most of them support the measures that have been taken. Harry hired two vamps in the last three months, as a matter of fact." She smiled. "No one else likes working overnights."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Of course _Potter _would find an advantage in this…" he trailed off.

Hermione stepped closer, placing her hands on his chest, on the incredibly soft jumper - _Ooo, is this cashmere?_ \- she marvelled at the solid musculature she found underneath. So preoccupied with the feel of him under her hands, she barely registered his next words.

"It is no secret that I am… what I am."

She didn't move away, wasn't about to give up finally touching him as she'd wanted to all night - _for a fair bit longer than that, don't you think?._ Fine, it was true. _Professor _Snape had always fascinated her, to some extent. His brooding temper, enigmatic personality and somewhat dubious lifestyle spoke to her love of puzzles and need to solve them. But also because of his raw power and intelligence. There'd always been something indefinable about the man. Him turning up in her office, alive and vampiric, simply intensified her interest.

Steeling herself, she decided to make him see that there was no harm (_wrong choice of words, Granger!_) in the two of them pursuing _some _kind of relationship. "In the last five years there, have been four marriages between vampires and non-vampiric humans, one of them to a Muggle."

His eyes widened.

"I'm not proposing, you numpty! I'm making a point." Sliding her hands up his chest, she intertwined her fingers behind his neck. "But there will be no _supplementing_, understand?" _Oh, that came out quite possessive and jealous sounding... Screw it!_ "You clearly have some notion of how to deal with that, I'd like to hear it."

"You don't miss a thing, do you, witch?" he said with a smirk, pulling her close and burying his nose in her wild hair. "Blood Replenishing Potion. I've adjusted the formula. If I add a drop of _your _blood to it during the second stage, it's safer, more potent and, by my calculations, should regenerate your blood four times faster." His lips touched her throat and he emitted a low growl.

_Your blood. If. Should. _He hadn't used it on another witch… yet. His words, the promise that they held, very nearly caused Hermione to melt in his arms. "Where's the bedroom?" She'd not yet finished the sentence when Hermione found herself standing next to a huge, modern, platform bed. She was also completely nude. "My gods, you _are _fast when motivated," she gasped.

He was busy though and seemingly not paying attention. Snape pulled a phial out of the bedside cabinet. Placing it atop, he turned to her. "For now standard Blood Replenisher will have to do. You'll need it, afterwards," he said before tugging off his jumper.

Hermione felt somewhat awkward, standing there naked as he calmly undressed in the softly lit room. His eyes were on her body, drinking her in as he reached for the placket of his trousers.

She could no longer remain a passive observer. "Let me," she said, stepping towards him.

Snape released the fabric and reached for her, pressing their bodies together but leaving just enough room for her to work. _"I'm yours,"_ he whispered as she started unbuttoned him, causing Hermione to shudder.

When she nudged the fine linen off of his hips, she immediately felt his cock on her bare stomach. "No pants?"

He didn't respond, just smirked as he picked up his wand from the cabinet. For a split second she wonder if he was casting an anti-pregnancy charm, then felt foolish when she remembered that vampires were sterile. He tapped a piece of paper that happened to be lying next to the Blood Replenisher. The paper suddenly became an elastic. He then dropped his wand onto the tabletop with a soft clatter. _Like he needs wordless magic to make him sexier! _

Carefully, with slow deliberation, he reached up, winding her hair into a messy bun atop her head. "Nothing to get in my way," he said. "Lie down for me, Hermione."

Taking two steps back, she sat on the bed, watching him for a moment before reclining on the softest sheets and downiest pillows she'd ever experienced. His body was absolutely lovely. He was thin, but not as thin as she'd always imagined. Somewhat broad-shoulders led to a lean, yet slightly sculpted chest. She could see his ribs but he didn't look gaunt. Her appraisal stopped, however, when she saw his hand move to his cock.

Snape stroked himself slowly; Hermione licked her lips. He was not small by any means but not frighteningly huge. Bigger than most she'd seen, that was for sure. It wouldn't be a problem; she was literally dripping from over an hour of verbal foreplay.

Finally, he stepped to the bed, placing a knee on the mattress he crawled towards her. _Fuck!_ He was taking his bloody time! Once braced over her, knees on either side of her hips, hands planted next to her head, he inhaled deeply. "I am going to make you scream." His tone was even, completely belying his words. "I am going to make you come. I am going to show you true ecstasy and ruin you for mortal men." Dipping his head until their lips nearly met, he said, "Last chance, Hermione…"

"Sir…" She tried to rise and meet him. Gods, but she wanted to taste those lips.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chastised, moving away. "It hasn't escaped my notice that you have yet to say my name. Say it, Hermione, and you get a reward."

She did not hesitate, but she did stutter. Desire was fogging her brain. "S-Severus."

He smiled. "Beautiful." His lips ghosted over hers. A mere hint of a kiss. "_Again,"_ he whispered.

"Severus."

This time his mouth lingered, still closed, but firmer. When he pulled back, he said, "Again."

"_Severus!"_ It came out like a plea and Hermione couldn't find it in her to care when she felt his body fairly melt on top of hers. They were touching, hip to chest. Skin to skin - his cooler against her overheated flesh. Then his mouth fully engulfed hers. Her hands wrapped themselves around his back, holding him close. When his tongue traced the seam of her lips, she opened to him with a whine.

Anticipation had ratcheted Hermione's senses. She was on edge, but not distractedly so. Quite the contrary, she seemed to be hyper aware of everything that was happening: his tongue, sweeping through her mouth to tangle with hers; his hands that had found their way into her hair, disturbing his previous work and gripping her scalp with urgency; his hips, moving rhythmically against her own and, of course, his long, hard length slowly thrusting between them, leaving a sticky trail on her stomach.

The kiss went on for seconds… or possibly weeks; she was too out of her mind to contemplate time, until Severus pulled away, nipping at her bottom lip in the process. He trailed his mouth across her jaw and Hermione quickly turned her head to the right, willing him to do what she wanted - needed - so badly.

When he reached her throat, however, he stopped. "Not quite yet, my eager little witch. First thing's first." Raising up, he moved slightly to the side and wasted no time taking a hard nipple in his mouth.

Hermione bucked, somehow shocked by the contact. "Fu… Oh! So… Oh!"

Severus hummed around the bud, snaking a hand down her stomach to the closely cropped curls between her thighs. Once he dipped a finger between her folds, he released her nipple with an audible plop. "Is this all for me?" he asked in a teasing tone, eyes bright and full of mischief.

She ignored his enquiry - she was almost embarrassingly wet - instead, closing her eyes, she bucked up into his questing digit. But the finger quickly disappeared, causing Hermione to look at her new lover aghast.

He simply raised an eyebrow and said, "I'm not letting all that go to waste." With lightning speed - which wasn't entirely necessary, since he was only moving a couple of feet - Severus flew to the end of the bed, crouching on all fours, looking for all the world like a dangerous predator.

Hermione's alarm must have been far too obvious as the vampire graced her with a menacing grin. "Oh, you're right to be scared, sweet. I don't think you quite know what you've gotten yourself into."

She didn't have time to allow fear to take over, however, because he then lowered his head, burying that prodigious nose of his between her folds and… inhaled. Deeply. This act alone damn near drove her over the edge but he withdrew, keeping his eyes trained on hers, raised up and planted his hands on her knees. Then he started to position her, widening her thighs, pushing her knees up to her stomach. He held her there for several seconds before saying, "Don't move," as he released her left knee. _Wandlessly _\- _wordlessly_, he Summoned the pillow next to her head, causing it to fly the short distance to his hand. He deposited the pillow between her splayed thighs, returning his hand to her knee, this time _under _it; his left hand mimicked his right.

Hermione held her breath as she tried to figure out what the hell…

Then he was lifting her by her knees, pulling her bottom off the bed several inches. Finally, his eyes left hers and he looked down at the pillow. Both hands were occupied, keeping her suspended off the mattress, and Hermione couldn't help but lean up on her elbows to watch.

The pillow inched towards her, smoothly sliding underneath her arse. She had never been so open, so exposed to a wizard as she suddenly found herself. The pillow had levered her hips at a very specific angle and height; she knew he could see every inch of her but she was far too impressed by his display to feel self-conscious at the moment. This time he'd moved the pillow without his wand _or _voice or even hand movements. "My gods, that… that was brilliant," she said, expelling a heavy breath. "How'd you…?"

"Magic," he said, looking back up. His hands slid down her legs, keeping them where he wanted them, as he adjusted his position. He was now flat on his stomach, face hovering just over her mons. His answer was both corny and condescending. She was about to call him on it when he spoke again. "This way my pillow will smell like you." Lowering his head, his nose lightly brushed over her clitoris before pulling away once again.

Her hands were digging into the sheets, taut with anticipation. If he was so interested in her blood, what was taking him so long? "Severus…"

"I am pacing myself, Hermione," he answered, mostly to her pussy. "Once I start drinking…" He chuckled. "Well, shortly thereafter, you'll pass out. Your fun will be over. Must attempt to make an impression first."

Okay. That made sense.

"Try to relax and enjoy yourself, sweet. _I _certainly am." And with that, Hermione felt the tip of his tongue skim her inner folds. "Gods…" he gasped before moving lower, snaking into her opening. "Hmmmm…"

As his tongue - _how does his tongue feel so big? _\- entered her, Hermione loosened her grip on the sheets and attempted to 'relax'. Quite a request, considering there was a sexy vampire tongue fucking her with apparent delight. Whilst he explored her internally, that nose of his bumped against her clit teasingly, not giving her enough stimulation to make her come, but keeping her amped up, nevertheless. Severus spent several long minutes with his tongue buried deep inside her, then withdrew, looking up at her with intensity.

He wasn't even winded. Of course, breathing was a purely voluntary action for his kind. They _could _breathe - for a specific purpose, inhaling deeply to catch a scent - for hunting prey, but didn't have to per se. _Oh gods!_ she thought, _he could do this for hours on end! _His left hand moved to her stomach, spanning across it, covering half her lower abdomen as his thumb pressed lightly on her clit.

"If your blood tastes half as good as your delicious quim you should thank all the gods that I have preternatural self control. Any other vamp would devour you whole." He rolled his eyes as his thumb lazily played with her sensitive bud. "For beings who can live for several thousand years, we tend to have no sense of… saving for the future."

Hermione's only reaction was a nod of acknowledgement.

Tilting his head to the side, he asked, "Have I been teasing you too long, precious?"

"Yesss," she hissed.

His thumb never stopped its methodical rubbing.

"Well then stop biting your lip. If you bite through it, I'll be forced to abandon my current project to taste your blood. My control only… goes… so far…" His last words were muffled, spoken into her wet snatch.

He started even lower this time, gathering the leaking juices that had trickled out of her, past her perineum, wetting her arsehole. When his tongue circled the tiny hole, she squeaked, bucked and suddenly found her hands buried in his silky hair. The vampire chuckled at having found one of her secret kinks. Hermione was certain her cheeks had reached a new shade of fuchsia but had little time to fuss over it as Severus continued his quest for every drop of her essence.

Once satisfied, he worked upwards again. The slurping sounds coming from her nether regions were beyond indecent, but everything about this situation was, so it was fitting. Finally, _finally!_ he laid a gentle kiss to her clit.

"Are you ready to come for me, Hermione?" he asked in a soft whisper, his words ghosting across her sensitive, damp flesh.

_More than! _"Please!" Her hands tightened in his hair.

"I want to hear my name, witch. Try not to forget it," he said before sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth whilst entering her with two fingers.

The effect was instantaneous. Hermione's world exploded in white-hot light. Stars danced behind her closed eyes as her hips rose off the bed. She heard herself calling out to him, heard him growling, moaning and even more slurping, but it was all distant, as if it were coming from across the room rather than from the pair of them. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears fast and hard as her orgasm seemed to continue for an eternity.

When she was finally able to breathe somewhat normally, she opened her eyes to find Severus hovering over her. His face was shining with her juices; he was smiling like he'd just won some grand prize. Braced on one hand, his other was occupied with stroking his impressive cock. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, covering her mouth with his, sharing his bounty. Humming as they kissed, Severus lowered himself until he was nestled between her thighs.

He kissed his way across her jaw to her neck. "I'll not leave a mark. This won't be permanent."

"Permanent?" she asked, somehow managing to form a thought through the haze of arousal. What was he…? Oh, he knew about... of course he did. But...

"There are… " He nipped at the flesh of her throat. "... _old ways_, Hermione. Things our kind do not speak of in _certain _company."

Holding him close, she wrapped her legs around his hips. "_Tell me,"_ she whispered, not giving away that she too knew of their _old ways. _The idea of him speaking about the oldest of magicks in that voice of his… Sexy didn't begin to describe it.

"Sh-sh-sh… Not now. Another time… perhaps." Kissing her collarbone, he rose up. He must have seen the confusion on her face. "I only mentioned it in case one of my brethren had betrayed our secret." A delicious smirk formed on his lips. "Are you sure about this? Last chance to get away."

"I've already made my decision," she said, her hands drifting lower and gripping his tight bottom.

He hissed, surging forward. "I promise to take care of you, sweet." And with that, Hermione felt him enter her, though not completely, before he pulled out, leaving the tip resting at her entrance. "Gods, witch! Been a while, has it?"

"More!"

He thrust again and just as before, he denied her his entire length. "Timing is everything, I think you'll find." After two more half thrusts, he finally bottomed out, causing them both to moan. "_Tight_ isn't the right word," he mumbled into her neck. His hands gripped her bun, pulling roughly, he moved her head to the right. "It will hurt for a second before the pleasure starts…"

She tried to nod but was restricted by his hold on her hair.

His hips started moving, pounding against hers. His cock was hitting every single spot inside her, spots she didn't know existed; she'd never felt so full. While he fucked her, his mouth kissed, licked, sucked on her throat. In between this generous oral treatment, he whispered filthy compliments: '_... feel like a dream' - '... perfect pussy' - '... I'll fuck you for eternity'_. But also, the occasional oddly sweet remark: '_... don't deserve you.' - '... wish I could keep you' - '... beautiful, lovely, smart… gods, witch!'_.

She was so focused on the feeling of him inside her, the building of her next climax and his silky voice an inch from her ear, she had very nearly forgotten about…

"_Ahhhhhhhh!" _she screeched when his fangs found their mark through her carotid. He was right, though, the pain was momentary; almost as soon as it started it was over. Suddenly, she was floating on a wave of some previously unknown euphoric sensation. She was hot all over, burning, really - _I'll never be cool again_ \- yet, somehow, there was an icy coldness near her throat. The coldness was soothing, comforting. She knew she was convulsing tightly around Severus' cock, could feel her muscles clenching, trying to pull him in - keep him there.

Just as she started to come down and the last of that sweet release washed through her, it built right back up again, ending in another, smaller orgasm. And another. And another. Her arms were very nearly useless by this point. Though they had started out encircling his shoulders as he thrust, they now lay at her sides, fingers occasionally twitching to indicate another bout of orgasmic spasms.

If her partner had climaxed at any point in that deluge of ecstasy, she was unaware of it. All she could manage as the last release echoed through her was, "Sir… I think I could fall in love with you…" before her world faded to nothingness.

* * *

_Okay, so that's part one finished. Part two is from Severus' POV and we'll get some insight into what he's all about. I'm hoping to post it over the weekend. It's finished but for the very ending lines. Hope you all like it so far, please let me know. Love a review. Thanks for reading ~Lil~_


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